Joyous Nature
Krasnoyarsk is a place that makes itself very hard to like. The buildings are dour and the sky has not changed its dark gray complexion. Most likely because of the continuous smoke you can see belching from the smokestacks across the river. In the central area every lamppost has two speakers fixed onto it. I am sure that in times past these were for party slogans providing encouragement for the brave souls working hard for the destiny of the Soviet dream in such dour surroundings. Such exhortations would actually be preferable to the awful, bland jazz that now gets forced on you as you navigate the streets. All of yesterday’s slog around in search of a place to stay was sound tracked by this which only made Rdoc and I even more irritable. This was also after more incidents with pushy old ladies. They need to be culled. Three people standing at the front of the queue for the bus into town. All with packs front and back. Thus encumbered there is an obvious hesitancy when climbing up quite a high step. Instead of allowing the second it takes to gather oneself to do this two babushkas, scarf wrapped head down, bag in each hand, pushed past Arnika knocking her back. Taking this as a cue another bunch followed until the bus was full and we were still standing there. They really are a menace.
There is no way to counter either, are you supposed to push an old lady out of the way? It is like no one quite knows what to do with them and so they are left to either wander around carrying their mandatory bags from place to place or maybe sit on the footpath with a box on top of which are a few onions or maybe a carrot. Sometimes they get pressed into ‘work gangs’ usually for cleaning purposes and always at least five where one would be plenty. Forming up in a line in a place like a shopping mall or metro station they will cut a swathe through the waiting passengers determined to get every last speck of dust regardless of how many ankles they also collect. Or our favourite occupation, that of the escalator watcher. At high school our career’s adviser had this program that told you your ideal profession based on answering a bunch of questions. What would you have to enter to get watching escalators as your top option, even top five? The best example of this was in a mall in Kazan where there was a lady sat on a wood and steel tube chair just watching a twenty metre stretch. The ones over a hundred metres I can understand but really what can go wrong in that short a stretch?
Stolby National Park was supposed to be the redeeming feature and main reason for making Krasnoyarsk on of our stops. Rdoc wanted to see the rock formations for which it is famous. A nice palative walk in nature would be good for us all. With very easy instructions as to how to get there and a relatively clear day it was with a very optimistic air that we set out. Russia will crush naive optimism unmercifully. An hour later and the only assumption to be made was that neither of the local bus options we were supposed to use actually existed, even though we were standing at a bus stop with their numbers clearly signposted. There was nothing for it but to cross the bridge over the Yenisey on foot. With a small rucksack fulled with bread, cheese, sausage, and a tomato it felt like one of Hemingway’s Nick Adams short stories. The minibus on the industry side was easily located a short distance from the small train station. The bus stop was adorned with a rather disturbing poster for some dancing monkey show. At least in the photos they were all dressed up like they were going to a five year old girls birthday party where the theme was fairy princess. Rattling along for a half hour in the crowded bus an extremely persistent man of about forty sat next to me and struck up one of the most nonsensical conversations I have ever been in. I am starting to think that it it more common to be able to speak a small amount of English than be able to understand the answers you elicit. I think his aim was to become out guide for the afternoon. Thankfully saved by the conductor who informed us that we had reached out stop as we had asked her to do. The persistent man also got off. It had started to drizzle slightly while we were on the bus. We crossed the road leaving him standing there waiting for another bus to come.
The last of the 4 great rivers of Russia we were to see and the world’s 5th longest.
Directly opposite the verge where we had alighted was a road leading up a hill. Obviously the way into the park. Walking up it though, it felt more like a driveway with dachas set into the hill on either side. Then the paving ended with only trees ahead. So we pushed on to the peak following what we pretended was a track. As soon as the summit was crested our mistake was realised. On the opposite side of the valley the actual road could be clearly seen cut into the hillside. Unwilling to retreat and find this true entrance we set about descending through the chest high grass covering the deceptively steep slope. After crossing the stream at the bottom, managing to keep all socks dry, we were on the road and had a renewed bounce in our steps. Another hour and the most exciting thing we had passed was a sign warning about bears and wolves. The gradient had only just started taking a steeper tone. Until now the drizzle that was present when we had gotten off the bus had disappeared but now it started to actually rain. It still was not obvious how far away we were, even in all the welcoming signage at the gate there was no map or distance indicators. The appearance of a picnic table with a roof built over it was taken as a good cue for lunch. A family we had passed near the entrance came and sat the other end of the table as I was finishing my second sandwich. The little boy of about six looked very jealous of his toddler sibling who was in a stroller.
Soon after resuming our walk the surface of the road changed from seal to rough gravel and rocks. The trees were also much closer and for long periods completely enclosed us from the sky. Still there was no sign we were anywhere near the towering formations that had been seen from the initial hill we had climbed at the bottom of the valley. Arnika was lagging behind some as Rdoc pressed on, sure that everything would reveal itself just around the next bend. Or maybe the next one. And then the road ran out. That was it, just stopped with no options to carry on further. The trees were so thick now that even climbing a sharp rise to one side did not enable a view. Defeated there was nothing else to do but turn and walk back to the main road and catch a bus back into town. At least this time it took us all the way into the city.
Seemingly so simple from this perspective. They’re just there at the top of the valley.
We all knew where we wanted to go once we were back in the sound filled street of the central city. The previous night had seen the discovery of a really great cafe called Ciao to disguise the fact that it was owned by Germans and with an American barista. He knew how to make a cafe Vienna though and this was what was ordered all around as we peeled off wet layers and started to dry out. On the walk back the rain had stiffened and won its battle with the waterproofing of my windbreaker when it wasn’t taking the direct route of straight down the back of my neck. As others played chess we wondered how that could have gone so unsuccessfully. We knew we were in the right place because the bus conductor had gotten excited for us when we said we had wanted to go to Stolby. Then we had walked through well signed entrance gates to the park. On the way up there had been signs showing off the rocks, just none with information about getting to them. Then there was the family and others who, if they knew better, were otherwise going for a long walk up a paved road in the rain to nowhere for the hell of it. On our way back down we again passed the family who soon after overtook us after being rescued by a friend in a station wagon.
Our waitress at Ciao thought it was all quite funny, though provided no illumination having never been there herself. She could not give an answer to Richard’s questions about the lamppost music either just shrugging it away by saying that it has just always been there. This is another great thing about this cafe, the staff are really friendly and talkative. She asked where we were from and exclaimed in excitement “Oh I’ve been there, it’s very nice” when we told her. Continuing she said “And Amsterdam is amazing too.” It took quite a bit of unraveling to find that she was the first person I have met to confuse New Zealand with Zeeland in the north of Holland where she had gone on a school exchange. It was actually kind of impressive and made me like Krasnoyarsk just a tiny bit more.
Tags: animals, cafe, evil old people, Krasnoyarsk, mighty river, nature, Russia, tramping, Trans-Siberia, Travel
montombo